The Devil's Crossing
by crypticnotions
Summary: Will the Machine offer John Reese a way to go back and save Joss Carter? If so, will the cost be worth it? *Spoilers for "The Crossing" Season 3 episode 9.*
1. Chapter 1

A/N:

Disclaimer: Not mine.

The chapters will be shortish because I'm typing them on my cell phone then transferring. They will probably come quicker though.

I was obviously disappointed with the end of "The Crossing" and the killing of Joss Carter. I will always write Carter and Careese stories. I hope you will take those journeys with me.

Summary: Will the Machine offer John Reese a way to go back and save Joss Carter? If so, will the cost be worth it?

* * *

He breaks into her house. It is a week after her funeral and the house is still the same. Taylor and his father haven't yet started taking away the pieces of her. Her police uniform hangs in her closet, the creases of every fold ironed to military precision. His fingers brush against it, sending it swaying into her pantsuits and vests. The case of guns hidden under her bed sends him into a memory so strong that he clutches his chest at the deep ache.

"_Girl after my own heart_," he thinks.

He lies on the bed. The comforter is soft and when he inhales the scent that is so uniquely her reaches his nose. It burns him in a way that leaves him choking back tears.

"I'm sorry, Joss," he whispers.

_"When your time is up, it's up." _

He hears the echo of her voice, but he knows this is a lie. Sure, he's seen people survive bullets to the head and field amputations with little more than alcohol and a rusty knife, but he's also watched little children succumb to cancer and elderly women with their outstretched palms freeze to death in the cold. Yet, he knows Joss believed her words. Still, he can't help but think she was pushed into her time, and those moments when he is really sober, he feels like he gave a little shove too.

He hasn't been right since she's been gone. It's not like Jessica. That relationship ended with regret, with what could have been. This hurts in a different way. He had summoned his courage and told Joss how he felt. No, this relationship held promise. It was going somewhere and now he feels himself drift into a sea of anger and sadness so intense that he struggles to gasp at air.

He falls asleep in her bed. When he wakes he blinks into the darkness.

And her phone, the burner that rests on her nightstand, begins to ring.

Who would call her and on this phone? His fingers linger above the talk button before he answers.

The mechanical voice of the machine drones out, "18541511192013".

* * *

"Do you feel it, Harold?"

Root stares out at Finch. Her fingers grasp the wire barrier between them so tightly that the tips of them are white.

Harold shifts his torso to look at her. It never stops being disconcerting that she is here in his space. "Feel what, Ms. Groves?"

"Ma'am." Her eyes are big now, luminous in the dimming light. Her mouth curls into a sly grin. "She is speaking. She is fixing things. God is correcting your mistake, Harold."

* * *

The voice repeats the message and John hurries to rip a sheet of paper from a pad on Carter's stand. John's fingers tremble at the recognition of the last eight digits. They haunt his every breathing moment. They are the numbers of the day Joss died. He pauses. But what do the numbers in front of them mean?

* * *

A/N: Sorry non-Americans. We write our dates month/day/year. I know it's not like that everywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Harold is unnerved. He attempts to focus his energy on the task of diverting money from an offshore account of their latest number into a well-respected charity's fund. It's only a matter of moments that Ms. Shaw will have at the database they need to secure the code for the account.

Ms. Groves, however, is the happiest he's ever seen her. She continues babbling in the background. He hates to admit it but whatever connection she's established with the machine seems to have gotten stronger in her mind and she is in a bigger frenzy than normal.

"I can help you, Harold."

His fingers pause above his keyboard. "I don't need any help, Ms. Groves." He addresses her without turning.

"But you do. The time is coming. We will all repent of our sins when She speaks."

Harold tenses. Shaw is calling his name.

It takes him moments to respond. "Yes, I got that, Ms. Shaw. The money was transferred. You may exit the facility."

"We can all go to paradise."

Harold removes his glasses and swipes across his eyes with a handkerchief. His heart is beating fast. It is very hard not to see the things he built crumbling little by little.

* * *

"I need your help." John plops the crinkled paper on Harold's clutter free desk. The library is the same as it's always been, but John finds Finch away from his usual spot next to the enclosed Samantha Groves and in the back in a small room that was previously used strictly for storage.

Harold looks down at the paper then up at John. "Hello to you too, Mr. Reese."

John knows Finch is shocked to see him. He has grown distant since Joss's death. He knows deep down that it's not Finch's fault any of this happened, but in the irrationality of his grief, he couldn't help but thrust some of the blame onto Harold. He finds himself torn between the enduring friendship they've forged and his inability to compartmentalize the myriad of his emotions.

"I need to know what those numbers mean."

Harold looks at the scribbled digits and shakes his head. "What is this, John? Where did you obtain it?"

"_Your _machine sent them to me."

Harold doesn't miss the emphasis Reese puts on "your".

Harold clears his throat. "Well, the machine has not been functioning to its best capability since the virus was introduced. Maybe we can,"

John interrupts him. "The last eight digits are to the date Carter died. I need to know what the ones in front of them mean."

Harold studies the numbers again. "Are you sure, Mr. Reese? Sometimes when we are grieving we detect patterns that do not exist or connect to things we desire them to connect to." Harold's voice softens in the way that people use to appease small children and dangerous people. Even though Reese knows he easily falls into the second category, Finch hasn't spoken to him in that tone since he was first recruited.

John narrows his eyes to keep from wincing. "I'm positive, Finch." It's just a gut feeling, but he's never abandoned his gut when something important was at stake ,and for whatever reason the machine was drudging up this painful date, John has an inkling that it's an important one.

"Please, Finch…Harold, I need to know."

Harold adjusts his glasses and nods. "Okay, Mr. Reese." He types 185415 into his computer and initializes a program that synchs and checks for an easily identifiable sequence of numbers and related codes.

The computer lights up and the numbers flash and morph into words.

Reese leans over Finch's shoulder to read from the screen out loud. "The combination of numbers most likely to relate is from the English language. The most recognizable pattern is the word: REDO."

Reese stands from his bent position and looks at Harold. They are silent.

Harold finally whispers, "Redo 11192013."

With the silence lengthening at the implications, it is not hard for them to hear Root yell, "Repent!"


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed and read the previous two chapters. Hoping to get in the swing of things after the holiday season. This is slightly longer because I only wrote a small portion on my cellphone.

* * *

"Are you telling me your machine can alter physics?" Shaw leans in the doorway of Finch's temporary office with her arms crossed.

Finch adjusts his glasses and looks at her. "Time travel does not necessarily alter physics, Ms. Shaw. There are theories, though mostly untested, that time travel may be possible and may work within the confines of what we know. They are not all popular theories, but a machine capable of detecting patterns of violence was also outside of the natural realm only decades ago. What is often science fiction becomes science fact."

"You said 'mostly untested'," John says.

"Yes, Mr. Reese. There are always people attempting to confirm their hypotheses. It's what makes the vast world of science so intriguing."

"So someone may have tested a running model and your machine picked it up?"

Finch shifts. He doesn't like humanizing the machine. He doesn't like the idea that his creation, the very same one that acts like a petulant child sometimes, may override his directive to remove its memory. He doesn't like that it not only collects data, but that it also _learns_.

"I do not know."

"But I bet there is someone who does," Reese says. His head inclines in the direction of their captive.

Harold sighs. "She has been in a frenzy these last hours. I'm not sure her advice will be helpful."

Shaw speaks up. "It couldn't hurt."

Saying it couldn't hurt when speaking about Samantha Groves is a lie. Since she came into their lives there has been nothing but pain. This has the possibility to add more. This is how Harold knows the machine hates him. To reach out to one of his greatest enemies was an act of betrayal and defiance.

"We need answers. I'll make sure she doesn't try anything."

"You have been duped before." Harold tries to say this with a measure of kindness. The truth is that for all the skills Sameen Shaw has Samantha Groves is her biggest weakness.

"Yeah, that was before. I'm ready for her now."

Harold and John watch Shaw push from the doorframe and head to the enclosed area.

"We have to let her try, Finch."

"I'm not afraid of her trying, Mr. Reese. I'm afraid of what we'll discover if this is possible. Would Jocelyn even want something like this? It seems against her ethics to alter the course of established events. She didn't even like me hacking into government databases and now we are talking about possibly changing the course of time. I am not sure she would approve."

John gazes hard at Harold. "Joss never talked you out of hacking those sites and you're not going to talk me out of saving her if it's possible."

Harold watches his friend and greatest partner walk away from him again. Harold lets out a breath. Mr. Reese may never utter the words "I love you" to anyone again, but there was a deep feeling for Joss Carter and whether they were able to go back to rescue her or merely continue with their mission, something of John Reese was fundamentally changed.

* * *

"Do you really think Harold has the power here? Do you think that Harold controls him? Do you think he controls Her? He doesn't and they are tired of him thinking he does." Root stares out at Shaw. Her mouth is set in a firm line. She is no longer joking. "Harold made a mistake, a grave one. Some things She can tolerate, but She will not tolerate her messenger being ignored."

"Wait, She? She isn't Harold's machine?" Shaw squints at Root. She can often keep up with the woman's ramblings, but this is confusing.

Root smiles at this. "Of course not. He is angry with Harold for leashing him so he helps Her, but this is Her doing. She sent me and She is angry that Harold would not listen."

"How does this help us?" John interjects. He doesn't care that there is another machine. In fact, he's suspected it for a while now. He doesn't have time to play the twenty-one questions that Shaw would play.

"It doesn't." Root shrugs. "It's not for you, but She liked her. She had plans for her and She is upset that she was taken before those plans could be carried out."

"Do you mean Joss? This machine, this other machine, had plans for Joss?"

"Yes." Root nods then looks down at her nails before looking back up. "She likes you, but she sees you as Harold's pet. Your friend was someone not yet claimed by Harold. Your friend was useful to Her."

John runs up to the cage and glares at Root.

"Silly little macho man. You can't intimidate me or Her. Besides, how do you know Her purpose is bad?"

Shaw rolls her eyes. "Well, she sent you." It's a moment of levity that no one gets to enjoy.

Root's smile widens and her gaze shifts over John's shoulder to Shaw. "Touché, but I'm not the gold standard, just the only one willing to listen."

"So this purpose?" John asks.

"Is all Hers. I don't know what it is. If She decides to tell me then I will know. Either way, it's the only way to save your friend."

John turns away. His heart aches. If he saves Joss he may not only negatively alter time, but also beholden her to the mysterious machine's wishes?

Root's voice draws his attention back to her. "You will help." She doesn't need to say anything else because no matter the dilemma he knows he will do what is needed to see Joss again and he feels a sickness settle deep into his bones at this thought.

"What do I need to do?"

Root's eyes clear and a stoic fierceness enter them. "You understand that there will be greater restrictions on your actions?" It sounds cryptic, but John recognizes it as logical, as logical as going back in time to save someone who is currently dead can be.

He nods.

Root tilts her head upward as if she is hearing something from the heavens, she blinks and then rattles off specific coordinates in that eerie way that she does.

John holds in his gasp. Once again this is a piece of the puzzle he recognizes. It is the street outside of the precinct where Carter died. More specifically it is the location of the payphone that continues to ring in his nightmares.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Wow, thanks so much for reading and reviewing this story. I appreciate you taking the time to check it out. I'm glad so many people are on board for a Time Traveling The Machine story. This is a bit shorter chapter than the last one since it was once again penned on my cell phone.

* * *

"If_ my number was up, I'm just glad I was with you. No one I'd rather be with."_

His words echo in his memory. They pierce him. Those were the last words he shared with Joss before holding her bleeding body. His fingers clench and release. His palms are wet.

His heart was in those words. He remembers her half smile, her unsure shrug, the nervous swallow and slight widening of her eyes in the moment she realized his confession in the morgue was not just the desperate words of a dying man.

"You don't have to do this, Wonderboy." Fusco interrupts his thoughts.

They sit in Fusco's cruiser only two blocks away from the street that is still stained with Joss's blood, the street he now alters his routes to avoid even if it means going a longer way.

"I know things have been bad, but Carter wouldn't want you out here hurting yourself. I don't know if this cockamamie idea will work. Never did understand how the hell you guys were getting your Intel. Carter figured it out though. Left me a note just not vague enough for me to guess. Don't know how a time machine is possible, but I figure I shouldn't ask too many questions. It's all absurd to me."

Lionel stops speaking and silence permeates the car. The windows are foggy and covered in condensation. Lionel's fingers rest on the warm Styrofoam container that sits idle in the car's cup holder.

"I get why you need to do this," Lionel adds. His voice is so soft his accent clips off the ends of his words.

"Thank you, Lionel," John says. He eases his hands into the smooth leather gloves Finch gave him for Christmas last year. Finch's thoughtful gift may never make it an entire year in John's collection.

"What happens if this doesn't work?"

"Then you and Shaw protect Finch. Listen to Root, but don't trust her."

"And if it does?" Fusco questions.

"I'll see you on the other side." He doesn't let the familiarity of those words haunt him.

John opens the door and leans in. "Be good, Lionel."

"You first, John."

John lets his mouth turn up in a genuine smile. Lionel was never comfortable enough with John's first name. Now, it's no nickname? No sarcasm? They really have come a long way. It's no longer dead bodies and threats marring their relationship, but a sincere friendship of two cynical men made better by the concern and guidance of one kick ass detective they both miss.

John takes a breath, stands and slams the door. A quivering enters his muscles and John feels nerves he hasn't felt since his first day in boot camp. Only if he fails this he will be risking much more than just his own life.

He reaches the parallel road of _that_ street. He doesn't look across, doesn't let his mind drift to _that_ night. His feet plod along like anchors weigh down his limbs.

The light turns from red to green and he makes his way across the walkway.

He can hear Harold's voice pleading with him not to do this. He envisions the firm hand the man clutched on his shoulder to halt him before he left the library. He sees the bewildered look in his friend's eyes. "Is it worth it?" Harold asked.

"Yes," John answered without hesitation.

John now reaches the end of the walkway and glances at his watch.

Root's last warnings ring in his ears: "There are things you can't change. Don't alter too many events outside of your friend's death. You only go back two hours before past time becomes real time. You get one chance at this. And finally, someone will have to die in her place. The last is a must. Think of it as the universe balancing itself. She doesn't like disrupting the balance. Don't disrupt the balance, John."

The phone rings. John grabs the handle of the payphone before he can think it through. His chest heaves like he's hiked a mountain.

"Hello," a mechanical voice speaks. It is a voice he's never heard before.

"Hello," John replies before a sharp electrical current seems to travel through the handset and up his arm and jolt his entire body. He careens toward the ground and his vision blurs. His last conscious thoughts as he tumbles downward are he hopes he doesn't crack his skull open because he will have already destroyed his one chance and that yes, even _this_ is worth enduring to save Joss.

* * *

A/N: I hope this works for you. I've fiddled with it too much and realized I just needed to let it sink or swim as a chapter. I needed to get some exposition in a little, but I hope it didn't feel info dumpish (not a word, I know lol).


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I hope I thanked everyone who responded to all the previous chapters, but if not thank you so much for taking the time to read and review!

* * *

John Reese opens his eyes. His head aches in a way that feels like a knot forms on the back of his skull. He shifts and wonders where that pain comes from. His brain sends him flashes of the last few days before he ends up on this hard bench. Quinn. Carter. Kissing Carter. Leaving her in the morgue. Running. Getting arrested and booked.

His eyes close again. The faint haze of events further in the future yet not flash like the ghost of a camera's double exposure. He is rewriting memories on top of the others, a do over.

He sits up in his cell. His hand rubs the knot on his skull. It's real and the first deviation of that night. One chance. He gets one chance not to screw this up.

"Come on, buddy."

An officer appears in front of his cell. Reese hesitates. The fading ache from his night with Carter plus the fatigue and pain from his time without her is nearly unbearable. The tenderness of his bullet wound is there yet there are no wounds. He scowls. Root never mentioned this part. She never mentioned he would retain all the experiences before and after. It makes sense if he thinks about it. If he didn't retain his memories of the future how would he remember that Joss was in danger? Still, he feels duped by Root. That's what he hates most about her. She tells the truth, but there are always caveats to her honesty. He wonders if, despite the clothes being the same from that night, some part of his new, haggard frame peeks through the facade.

"You coming?" The officer is a frail man with bony fingers and a frown etched deep into his tanned skin. His uniform is baggy and Reese wonders if his slender figure is recently acquired. What he is sure of is that he could take the officer if needed.

John shuffles as quickly as his body allows him. Then maybe in this state he couldn't take the man at all. He forgets how exhausting grief is for him, how exhausting drowning your tears in quality alcohol and not properly tending to a bullet wound is.

He knows what comes now. Now comes the waiting and it sets his nerves on edge.

* * *

The door opens. John struggles to get enough air to his brain. A sudden shock, the kind that flares after one hits their elbow just right, infuses him.

It's real. She's real. Whatever sorcery Root and the other machine work, she is in front him. Her long hair is shiny and pristine. No blood. No tangles from his fingers clutching her head. He wonders if she will believe him about everything if he starts weeping? No, his Joss is too skeptical for him to spill his guts about this. It is part of what infuriates him about her yet draws him to her. Right now it would be the wrong move. He doesn't have the time to convince her to go along with a plan.

She turns to him. It is déjà vu in every sense.

It is her third time saying these words to him, but the impact feels as fresh as the first. Finch gave him a purpose, but Carter put him in a space to accept that purpose. She changed him.

He smiles. She acknowledges the conversation they had in the morgue by reenacting their initial meeting. She doesn't yet know how much she means to him, but he enjoys the banter. When she smiles his heart jolts.

He wants to touch her, but he is afraid. He still can't tell if he is hallucinating, if she isn't an apparition that will drift through his fingers with one embrace.

He finds himself following her out of the precinct. Their conversation is the same, even the worried glance she tosses over her shoulder at Simmons's disappearance echoes that night. He does not say that they would catch Simmons. It's the second deviation, but he can't say those words to her with the knowledge that this could all go wrong, that he may squander his one chance and end up with the same result. He could usher her away from this scene, but that won't solve their problem with Simmons. No, he must do this right. He must eliminate the threat completely, not just offer a temporary fix that will postpone her death a day or a week. He must permanently alter the course of events.

And now he says the words that change everything between them. They are the words he focused on before coming back here. The phone rings in the middle of them just like last time.

"_You're stuck with me_," his internal voice whispers to him and he hopes to a god he hasn't prayed to since Jessica died that this will be the truth.

"Time's up. Told you I'd end you."

Simmons steps from the shadows, raises his gun and shots fire through the silence. Joss yells and reaches for her weapon. Two bodies fall. The smell of sweat and gunpowder waft through the air as a pool of blood spreads on the street.

* * *

A/N: This was a good ending point, if an evil one. Does John sacrifice himself? Does Simmons get his due? Does history repeat itself and Joss goes down again? Where is Harold? All will be answered next chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks for reading. This chapter is a little bloody.

* * *

John collapses to his knees. Blood spills along the sidewalk. He reaches for her gaping chest wound and applies pressure. "No," he whispers. "You can't go. You can't die."

He hears a faint scuffling further down the alley. He looks up. Carter has kicked Simmons's gun away from him and is bent over checking his vitals.

John looks down again. Blood spurts between his slick fingers. His brain triggers the previous moment's images like a morbid slideshow. A flash of the car screeching, her brown hair fanning out in an angelic halo, that usual sinister smile thinned into a determined line. Her hand raised and firing before Carter can get a shot off. He's never witnessed anyone move that fast before, but Root moves like she's superhuman. He almost wonders if she is. It's both graceful and terrifying.

"Oh god, Mr. Reese." Harold stands in front of the running car. The passenger seat door sits open where Root raced out of it.

Carter is back by his side. Her hands are also covered in blood. "Simmons is dead. Those shots are sure to draw attention soon and I've called for an ambulance. You guys have to get out of here." She's seen worse. She's seen a man disintegrate from the blast of a landmine in front of her eyes, but she still looks shell shocked to John.

Reese glances down again. He can't take his eyes off the woman dying under his hands. She's coughing up blood. No good. It's probably her lungs. She gurgles, her mouth gapes wide as she tries to speak. John leans close to listen to her.

"Finally. It's done right," she gasps out. She smiles a wide smile and blood smears across her white teeth. John presses his hand against her wound in futility. Her chest heaves twice before she stops breathing.

"No," Reese growls out. Reese finds himself getting angry. Even though Joss's life seems to be spared and the machine's necessary sacrifice dead and gone, there are too many questions left unanswered. Where does this leave them? What did Root mean by "finally" and "done right"? And now that their connection to the other machine is gone how will they discover what the machine's plans for Carter are?

"John, you have to leave now." Carter pulls at his arms. Her hands stain his white dress shirt with Simmons's blood.

"Mr. Reese, Detective Carter is correct. It will not serve anyone's purpose to be present when others arrive." John knows this is true. He manages to keep eluding the consequences of "the man in the suit", but he is still in fragile territory, still stuck in the moments when changing the course of events might be disastrous for them all.

Sirens sound in the distance and John allows himself to be helped to his feet.

Harold glances at the lifeless body of Samantha Groves and a pang of sadness hits him. Though their interactions have been more than contentious, he realizes he will miss knowing she is out somewhere in the world. He will miss the danger of the cat and mouse game they played. Disgust infuses his body at that thought and he staggers back to the car.

As they drive away, Finch clutching the steering wheel with white knuckles, John catches a glimpse of Carter standing alone in the dark in the side mirror. A flash of light illuminates her face.

She's still alive, still breathing, but John is terrified and judging by the look on her face so is she.

Maybe Harold was right. Maybe he shouldn't have done this. Maybe he should have learned to live with her gone and half his heart torn out.

* * *

A/N: This is a short one and I was going to expand, but no matter how much I tried to connect another piece this felt like the organic stopping point so sorry it's short and there are lots more questions to be posed and answered. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much for getting this far with me.

* * *

November 19th-Original Timeline

"You will have a burden soon, Harold. It will be all yours. It is Her punishment to you. I hope you can handle it. I do like you. I've always been fond of you, you know?"

Root looks out at him from her caged area with gleaming eyes. Her fingers clutch her wire prison. For a second Harold sees the childish charm of Samantha peek out. Her words seize him with fear.

* * *

Now

He opens the door and she steps inside. She scans the perimeter. He notes the detective in her focusing on certain items. Her gaze sweeps over his kitchen and over to his bed.

"Nice place," she remarks.

"It is. Finch is nothing if not generous."

"Tell me about it," she says.

He helps her out of her coat. His hands linger on her shoulders.

She unwinds the red scarf from around her neck and places it on the wooden hook next to her jacket.

He guides her into the living area and directs her to a glass of wine waiting on a crystal table.

"I need to tell you something," John says.

They sit on the couch in his roomy loft. She lounges on his couch in jeans and a yellow knit sweater. She is so beautiful to him that she might as well be in haute couture. She leans back and looks at him.

His hand reaches across and squeezes hers. He can't keep his hands off her. Touches reassure him she is corporeal and not a dream.

"What is it, John?" She peers up at him with tired eyes and he swallows. How does he tell her he may have sold her future to a machine that he doesn't know about? That he crossed time for her? How much convincing will it take for her to understand this is real?

After the death of Samantha Groves over a week ago, John and Joss avoided each other. He avoided her because he wasn't ready to pay the price his actions cost and he assumed she avoided him out of the necessity of being above reproach.

He and Finch kept tabs on her and she'd had a slight issue explaining two dead bodies in her company. Her saving graces were the fact that she hadn't fired a bullet and a digitally altered video that showed Root, Carter and Simmons, but no inkling of him. Only he, Joss and Finch knew the truth. He'd asked Finch if the alteration was his doing, but Finch only looked at him with troubled eyes and shook his head no.

That left the machines themselves and John had no clue which of the machine's handiwork this was or of it was a combined effort. Either way, he was confronted with his great debt when he received a call the previous night with a mechanical voice stating a date and the coordinates of a location. The last numbers attached had been in the sequence of the last code and it took only moments to decipher the words "Bring Joss".

He'd climbed out of his head then and called her with the simple words "We need to talk." It was now or never.

"You should be dead," he says. His lips form a firm line. There is no easy way to start this conversation and even if there were it wouldn't be in his nature to ease this out. He has more tact than Shaw, but not much more.

"I know." She looks at him and he doesn't see shock radiating from her expressive eyes. He feels his skin prickle with goose bumps.

"What?" His voice rises over his normal raspy tone.

"I figured it out."

"Carter, what are you saying?"

"When Root showed up and took that bullet for me. I figured things didn't go well in my timeline."

His eyes widen. She knew about time being changed?

She smiles. "You think you're the only one who went back? In my timeline-I guess the original one-you died instead of me. Finch brought me into the fold and I met Root. Quite the character." She shook her head. "She and her mysterious machine sent me back. Only in the new timeline I didn't know Root was still the key. "

Suddenly an image that isn't completely written over comes to him. Joss, the one that died, standing in the alley with her gun yelling, "Not today!*" It all made sense now. He had dissected that scene in his head in every sober moment before traveling back and never understood why she shouted those words before wounding Simmons.

"So you got things right, huh?" She grins and her dimple peeks out. She sips on the wine and sits the glass down.

He had figured it out. He'd used his phone call, the one he'd refused earlier since Finch and Carter were occupied (and his arrest was Finch's idea anyway) to call Finch. He'd told the man that it was vital to put aside his differences with Samantha and allow her to help. He didn't like Root, nor did he trust her, but he knew that her devotion to the machine was unparalleled. If there was a plan to save them the machine, and essentially Root, would be the key. She'd been the sacrifice to right the wrong. As angry and senseless as her death seemed to him, John was sure Root went out exactly as she wished-in service of the machine. She'd seen herself as some great prophet, some sort of John the Baptist preparing the way for her particular god.

"So you know about the machine then? You know it wants you?"

She frowns. "What?"

He grasps her hand again. "It wants you for whatever reason. Did the machine want me in your timeline?"

A look of concern flashes across her face. "No, it just wished to help its fellow machine. Apparently, we're not the only ones who mourn. Harold's machine sank straight into depression or whatever is equivalent to it. The loss of a major asset was unacceptable to it. It no longer wished to operate. Finch said it never did that with any other asset."

John raises his brow a little and his lips twitch. Harold's machine, the one John borderline hates, cared for him? Well, that is interesting.

"But what does this machine want with me?" She brings him back to reality.

"I don't know, Joss. I shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry. I couldn't be without you so I made a deal to go back knowing it wants you." He looks away from her and shifts on the smooth leather.

She grips the hand clutching hers with both of her hands. "It's okay, John. I understand," she whispers.

He looks into her eyes and sees that she does.

"I don't remember everything from my timeline. I definitely have no memory of dying." She blinks and frowns at that.

He narrows his eyes. "Neither do I. I never knew I died first." What did the machine mean by one chance if they'd both gotten a do-over? How come neither of them remembered dying, but remembered other things? Was some of his pain that night the ghost of his death? He now has as many questions as he has answers.

"So, how bad did it get?" she asks. She fiddles with the tassels on the colorful throw draped over his couch.

He knows what she means. If the former images blaze nightly behind his eyes then her version must also play unfiltered in her mind too.

"Kind of bad," he answers. He puts a shaky hand on her thigh.

She reaches a hand to his face and cups his cheek. "I'm sorry."

"You died in my arms asking for your son."

She winces. "God, John, I'm so sorry.

You made it into Finch's car before your heart stopped. Told me you loved me before you bled out." She removes her hand from his face. She swallows and now it's her turn to look away.

"I don't regret this," he says. He cups her jaw. "I don't regret us getting a second chance at whatever this is." He says the words with a grin and amusement dances in her eyes at his choice of words.

"What do you want it to be?"

He shrugs. "Whatever you want it to be, but now isn't the time."

"Isn't it?" she questions. "I don't want us to make the mistake of missing this opportunity. We don't know what the machine wants, but we'll face it together."

His bright eyes flicker. Maybe there was hope for them as something more. He knows just how much Joss likes doing things on her own. If she continues to reach out to him that signals a shift in their relationship, a shift from the nervousness she displayed that night.

He leans into her space. The touch of his palm on her face grows sure. He pecks her lips. "Together," he murmurs against her mouth before returning to her lips and deepening their embrace.

* * *

Harold wakes from his dream. His hand sweats as he reaches for his pain medication. He swallows the pills with a gulp of water and squeezes his eyes shut. The shadow of three timelines occupies his brain. He knows Mr. Reese doesn't remember the night he died and from his interactions with Detective Carter, she has no clue he watched her die from across the street as the phone rang. Now, he sees Samantha Groves bleeding body haunting him.

Ms. Shaw and Detective Fusco are at a total lost on time travel and have no memory of any timeline other than their present one. Shaw needles him until John verifies that whether they can explain it yet or not, time travel can indeed happen.

Samantha was right. With the three different outcomes lodged into his brain, Finch carries a unique burden that is all his. This is his punishment.

He sits at the computer. Whatever is in motion for Detective Carter and Mr. Reese, Harold already suffers.

* * *

A/N: Some clarifications. Simmons had to die too otherwise he is always a threat to Carter and Reese. Elias takes him out on the show, but here where Carter lives, I think the threat to Carter is great and constant so I killed him.

*(what the asterisk means): There's some speculation that Carter yelled "No" or "Not today" when shooting Simmons in The Crossing. For a long time that intrigued me. Why did she yell that? Of course it could be for any reason whatsoever. If she yelled "No" that makes a lot more sense, but "Not today", the interpretation that seems the most right to me, is a little more bizarre. She could be yelling it because she refuses to let Simmons kill Reese or that the man in the suit wouldn't be caught that day, but I thought it would be more intriguing if her yelling that in my story actually had something to do with the plot so yeah.

And I will be answering why the machine wants Carter.


End file.
